“does that make sense?” i asked.
it was 3 am, and i’d turned the bedside lamp on to write words that my mind felt incapable of sleeping with, prompting me to consider them meaningful or overflow of experimental excrement.
he was a light sleeper, used to me waking up and speaking nonsense, so when saying words out loud to myself, or asking a question, he often responded, but not today. he was snoring, and i never knew if that was good or bad, deep or fitful rest, until he opened his eyes.
we met in greece, ten years ago. i was in charge of bucks, and he was in charge of riders. goats were more popular than horses at the time, and it was our job to innovate the livestock market, turn work into pleasure, and get everyone “galloping along the sands of their sunrise oceans.” that was the motto posted all over the walls of the corporate office. after a few months of not convincing the residents that horses were better than goats, they sent us back to the states, and our severance pay included one horse each, which was silly because we and the horses weren’t stable, if you know what i mean.
i skipped over the part about how we fell in love. when i read that story to him one morning, he said it was ‘css’, which is nerd couple speak for ‘cliche super shit’. it only makes sense to us, kind of like our wedding rings, which are made out of zirconium silicate. we made everyone wear capes to our wedding. by everyone, i mean the guy who read our vows at the chapel in vegas, and by wedding, i mean the last minute decision to hitch as we were leaving vegas on the way home from greece.
we didn’t get the real rings for another year, opting to wear those small black rubber stoppers inside of small sink knobs. we only did that cause i took the bathroom sink apart at the venetian after i’d lost a hundred dollars betting on horses. at the time, he laughed, saying how it proved that stubbornness couldn’t be overcome until enduring the same pain in different ways. i laughed too, but added paris and vegas to my greece disappointment, taking it out on the bathroom hardware, after not finding any clause in the hotel rental agreement that said we’d be charged for things found disassembled.
i figured it wasn’t exactly stealing since everything was there, minus the rubber rings, which i’d purchased the next day and mailed to them anonymously. we kept the used ones, figuring it had meaning since it spoke to a part of us that refused to remain constipated in stopped up places. his broke after a year, the same time my nuva ring snapped from the impact of a lovely animalistic love-making session.
In all room temperatures, we’re pretty solid, so we splurged on zircon, cause it was still all about the meaning, and there was a tiny crystal mutating into a gem inside my womb.
after honoring our stable, we shot the horses. go figure.